Tuesday, January 17, 2012

diana (m)

I loved Princess Diana since she was first introduced to the world.  We first bonded over our prominent noses.  Imagine, a beauty icon who didn't have a button nose!  I loved it.

My greatest compliment came in 1981 when Rusty, someone with whom I worked, stopped mid-conversation in the hallway of our office in Boston and said, "You remind me of an ethnic Lady Di."  I was over the moon.

My wedding dress was reminscent of hers.  We both gave birth to two boys.  We were like twins.

Later on, my respect for her deepened as she dealt with her emotionally bankrupt husband.  I was fascinated to see how she eclipsed him and moved on with her life.

And then, on that awful night in 1997, I was flipping through the channels of my television when I stumbled upon what appeared to be an accident scene somewhere in Europe.  I watched in horror as the news unfolded.  When they announced her death, I felt a piece of me die.  No exaggeration.

For the next few days, I could not function.  I wore my pajamas and took to my couch, box of Kleenex in hand.

On the day of her funeral, little Harrison came up to me as I was lying prone on the couch, eyes red and puffy, and asked, "Mommy, do you love me as much as you love Princess Diana?"   Oh, Chr-st.

Only then did I rouse myself and move on with my life.  But the world has been a less interesting place for me ever since.

So, imagine my unbridled enthusiasm to actually see the dresses she wore.  To be that close to her.

My sister-in-law, godmother, cousin and godmother's husband came with us to the Princess Diana exhibit at Foxwoods.  My husband got us all tickets for Christmas.  We went through the different exhibits...the Spencer family historical section, the estate at Althorp, Diana's childhood, the wedding, the funeral, and then the dresses.

I had read every book on Diana and was giving my family a private tutorial.  I knew about the family history.  The Spencers were more British than the Royal Family.  I pointed out the sister Charles dated before he dated Diana.  I spared Charles no kindness, setting up this 19-year old ingenue Diana for an arranged marriage whilst he was keeping that horse-faced Camilla on the side. Before long, I had a whole entourage of people who wanted to be part of my tour.

When we got to the dresses, even I was rendered speechless.  It was beyond my comprehension.

She was unimaginably tall....and impossibly thin.

That's where the similarities between us end.

No comments:

Post a Comment